by Jack Gibby
“You’re still a little afraid of it,” said Missy, taking the pistol away from him. She removed the empty clip and inserted a full one. Then she placed it down on the platform in front of them, barrel pointing down the shooting lane.
“I don’t mean to be,” Dunn said, watching as Missy reached out and grabbed his target. Yanking it off the bar, she replaced it with a fresh target.
“You’re locking your arms too much,” Missy said. “Bend your elbows a little bit more. Elbows up at shoulder level,” she said, lifting Dunn’s elbow up to show him. “This pistol doesn’t have a ton of recoil, but if you ever shot something more powerful you might get more muzzle flip.”
“What kind of gun is this again?” Dunn asked.
“It’s a CZ-75 Compact,” said Missy. “Nine millimeter. It’s a great concealed carry weapon, really well-made and reliable.”
“I like it,” said Dunn. “It feels good to shoot.”
“It’ll shoot almost anything,” Missy continued, looking down at her pistol with a satisfied smile. She almost reached out to pet it. “You know, some pistols have problems shooting different kinds of ammo, but this thing is a beast.”
“So this is what you recommend I get?” questioned Dunn.
“Absolutely,” said Missy. “They’re sometimes hard to find, but I think I got a line on a dealer who has them.”
“All right,” said Dunn. “Sold.”
“Just let me know when your CPL comes back,” said Missy. “Then you and I will go shopping.”
“Nice,” Dunn said. He smiled.
“All right,” said Missy. “Stop dilly-dallying and pick that thing back up. Remember what I said. Slightly bent elbows, isosceles stance.” She pushed her thumb on the button, and the target made its way once more down to the end of their shooting lane.
Dunn nodded, and he lifted the pistol back up. He watched as the target moved. Just as he was about to raise the gun to resume firing, Missy stopped him.
“Dunn,” she said. “Put your muffs on.” Missy tapped her own ears and then she stepped back to let Dunn have his space.
Dunn grinned. He put his ear protection back on.
Dunn and Missy exited the range together, stepping back out into the warmth of summer. Over Missy’s shoulder hung a small backpack with all her shooting gear in it. The two were smiling and talking, their friendship really catching on. Never had Dunn thought he’d have a friendship with someone over a decade younger than he was, but Missy was easy to like.
“I’m starting Monday,” said Missy. “I guess it’s time, you know? I held out from working with my family for a while. But it was inevitable.”
“Why don’t you want to work with them?” Dunn asked. “You told me before you didn’t like the whole nepotism aspect, but it’s got to be more than that.”
“I guess…” Missy said, really thinking about the question. “I guess it’s because in a competitive business like wine, sometimes shady things are done in the name of competition. I never wanted to get wrapped up in any of that.”
As they approached Dunn’s car, they suddenly stopped. A black luxury coupe was parked next to Dunn’s SUV and standing beside it, as though he had been waiting for them, was a man dressed in a nicely tailored suit.
Dunn flashed back to the shooting at the marina. He tried to imagine this man doing it, but he couldn’t quite place him there. This man in front of them did have some scruffy facial hair, but Dunn couldn’t be sure. They had been too far away from the scene at the marina.
Missy, meanwhile, casually reached her hand behind her back in a habitual motion, checking for her pistol tucked in the back of her jeans. However, almost at the exact same time, she realized that the gun they had just been shooting at the range was now locked in a case, tucked into her backpack.
“Greetings,” said the man with a toothy smile. “Don’t be afraid.”
“Can we help you?” said Dunn in a firm tone.
“Mr. Dunn?” said the man, making a simple gesture toward Dunn.
“That’s right,” Dunn replied.
“And you’re Melissa Marlowe,” he said, giving that same smile to Missy. “Am I correct?”
“Maybe,” said Missy, her eyes narrowing.
“I’ve been tasked by my employer,” the man went on. “To do a little investigating into a murder. A murder that you both witnessed.”
“Are you a cop?” Dunn asked.
“Oh, no,” said the man. “I’m not police. They wouldn’t have me.”
“So who are you then?” said Dunn.
“An interested party,” the man replied. “I’m here to tell the both of you… we got it from here.”
“What?” Missy said in confusion.
“We know that you’re Gannon Dunn,” he said, motioning again toward Dunn. “And you’re Melissa Marlowe—daughter, interestingly enough, of Michael Marlowe. We know these things, and some more things, and I just want you to know that we’ve got it from here.”
Dunn and Missy looked at one another in silence for a moment, absorbing what the man was saying. A thought came to Missy, she broke her gaze with Dunn, and addressed the man in the suit.
“Were you the one following me at the marina?” Missy accused. “That was you, wasn’t it?”
“I’d never dream of making a young woman such as yourself uncomfortable at her place of work,” said the man. It bordered on sarcasm. “That’s not my style.”
“But you did break into my house,” said Dunn. “Was that you?”
“Breaking and entering?” the man said with incredulousness. “Mr. Dunn, that’s against the law.”
“You got a lot of nerve, guy,” Missy said, beginning to fume. “You come at us like this outside of a shooting range? You don’t think that’s a little dangerous?” The man chuckled.
“No,” he said plainly. “I don’t. I think it’s quite safe, actually.”
“What do you want from us?” said Dunn.
“Just forget anything ever happened,” said the man. “That’s it. You didn’t see anything. Just move passed it. We got it from here.”
“I think the cops might be interested to know that they have some competition with their investigation,” barked Missy. When she said this, the man’s expression became more perturbed. But then his composure shifted back.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” said the man. “Forget about all that. The police, they have too much to deal with. They’re swamped. They’ve got drunk drivers to arrest, meth-heads to subdue. This thing, we’re going to handle it.”
Missy was about to spit out some more words, but Dunn stopped her before she could with a hand on her shoulder. She looked to him, obviously quite irritated.
“Good,” said the man, his smile returning. “I’m glad we have your cooperation. Let’s just keep this meeting between the three of us and we can all resume our wonderfully perfect lives. I recommend the two of you spend more time out on your boats, and forget about the gun range. There’s no need. You’re perfectly safe.”
“All right,” said Dunn, still holding Missy back. She looked like she was ready to explode.
“Relax,” said the man. “You’re up north. It’s summer. Have some wine, have some laughs, go fuck each for all I care. Life’s good, isn’t it?” He laughed, and then he made his way over to the driver side of his car and pulled the door open.
“We’ll do that,” said Dunn.
“You two have a great rest of your day,” said the man. He grinned. Stepping into his car, he slammed the door. Then his engine came to life, and he pulled out of the parking spot. Dunn and Missy watched him as he left the lot. As soon as he was gone, Missy burst.
“What the fuck was that?” Missy cried out. “Who does that asshole think he is?”
“That’s our guy,” said Dunn. “I don’t know if he’s the shooter, but that’s the guy that’s been messing with us. He knows who we are.”
“God, I want to wring his neck!” called Missy, giving her f
oot a stomp on the pavement, losing her cool. “He can’t talk to us like that. Dunn, let’s go to the police right now and rat this asshole out. I memorized his plates.”
“Let’s hold off,” said Dunn. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Missy was about to spout off another epithet or two, but she stopped before she let loose. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself.
“I hate being intimidated like that,” she said after a moment. “It’s super disempowering.”
“I know,” said Dunn. “But look, for our own safety, we really ought to back out of this gracefully. I don’t want any more trouble.”
“I get it,” Missy acquiesced. “You’re right. You’re right.” She walked, near sulking, over to the passenger side of Dunn’s car. After trying the handle and finding it locked, she looked to Dunn, eyes still aflame, and Dunn unlocked it from his key fob. Missy yanked at the door, and she climbed up into the SUV. She slammed the door shut behind her.
Dunn stood there in silence, and he thought about what had just happened. Maybe it was over. Maybe he could get back to his retirement. That’s all he really wanted.
After a dinner of grilled whitefish, roasted Brussels sprouts with bacon, and a salad, Dunn and Brooke sat together on the couch in Dunn’s living room. A vinyl record played on the turntable, something calm and easy, with a light beat. They each had a glass of rosé in their hands, the remainder of the bottle sitting on the coffee table in front of them. Brooke wore a floral print skirt and a lightweight sleeveless top with a plunging neckline. She was barefoot, smiling, both of her bare feet up on the coffee table, sitting right up against Dunn.
“That was terrific,” she beamed, taking a drink from her glass. Brooke was obviously feeling good. Her face communicated how happy she was to be there.
“You can’t beat the local whitefish,” said Dunn. As he said this, the record came to an end, the tone arm lifting up on its own and moving back into the cradle. Dunn stood up and walked to the turntable to flip the record.
“I can’t believe you listen to actual records,” Brooke said, now cuddling up against herself in Dunn’s absence. “Nobody does that anymore.”
“People do,” he countered, carefully moving the needle back over to the record and setting it down into a groove. “Not many, I guess.”
“No,” Brooke said, smiling big once Dunn had turned and came back her way.
“It’s a hobby,” Dunn said. “I like the physical act of it. It makes me feel like I’m really doing something when I listen to music.” Side two of the album came through the speakers, filling the room with warm comfort.
“I like it,” Brooke said, patting the seat next to her. Dunn sat back down and almost immediately Brooke took his hand, threading her fingers into his. “It really does sound different. It’s soothing.”
“I’m glad there’s a great record store here in town,” said Dunn. “Get my fix, you know?”
“Yeah,” said Brooke. She smiled. She took another sip of wine.
As the sun set outside and the night carried on, more records were flipped and another bottle of wine was opened and poured. They laughed together, got to know each other even better, swapped stories, and had fun. Although Dunn had been dwelling on what happened at the gun range, this evening with Brooke caused all that worry to melt away. The wine might have had something to do with it, too, but Brooke’s company inspired Dunn’s mind to wander elsewhere. Besides, he hadn’t told her anything about it and didn’t want her to worry about him.
The lamp near the couch gave off a warm orange light. Brooke was now sitting crosslegged on the couch, facing Dunn, and laughing at something he had said. It was getting late, and both of them were feeling fuzzy from the alcohol. A really good kind of fuzzy. Looking over to a clock near the door, Dunn noticed the time. It was getting late.
“Hey,” said Dunn, interrupting their conversation. He placed his hand on Brooke’s bare knee.
“What?” said Brooke. “Is there something on my face?” She gave her lips a little wipe.
“No,” Dunn said. “I just saw that it’s after eleven. There’s no way you can drive home. Would you like me to get you a cab?”
“Are you kicking me out, Gannon?” Brooke replied, grinning with her hands on her sides.
“No, not at all,” he countered. “I just thought it was getting late.”
“Listen,” said Brooke, her voice lowering and that sultry tone coming out. “Maybe I don’t have to go home at all.”
“Ah,” Dunn said. He slowly nodded, knowing immediately what was going on. He could play along. “I can make up the couch, and I’ll sleep down here.”
Brooke’s grin grew huge.
“So I’d get your bed upstairs,” she said. “And you’d sleep down here. Very gentleman-like.”
“I am a gentleman,” Dunn affirmed. He drank the last sip from his glass.
“Sometimes it isn’t a gentleman that a lady is after,” Brooke said in almost a whisper. With this, she leaned in closer and placed a gentle kiss on Dunn’s lips.
“What is she after, then?” Dunn asked.
“Someone who can get his hands dirty,” Brooke said. The two kissed again.
“I think I can oblige,” he said.
“Mmm,” Brooke hummed. “I like you, Gannon. You’re one of the good ones.”
“We’ll see how you feel once you really get to know me,” Dunn quipped, giving Brooke a laugh.
“I really want to get to know you,” she said, almost purring with excitement. Brooke stood up from the couch and took Dunn’s hand, pulling him up with eagerness. “Every bit of you.”
Brooke continued pulling at Dunn, leading him toward the stairs.
“I should probably turn this record off,” he mused, his eyes moving toward the turntable. Brooke shook her head with a smile.
“Leave it,” she said, giving another yank, getting Dunn to return his eyes to her.
As Brooke lead him up the stairs, a few steps ahead, Dunn could almost see up her skirt. He could feel his heart racing. It had been some time since he’d taken a woman upstairs, and the excitement brimming inside of him felt like an old friend.
“I hope you’ve got some protection up there,” Brooke said, looking back to Dunn and offering him a wink.
“Like a gun?” Dunn joked. Brooke laughed.
“No, you jerk,” she said. “Protection for your gun.” Dunn laughed as they came onto the upstairs landing.
“I think I’ve got it covered,” said Dunn.
He watched as Brooke glided into his bedroom, and he wasted no time in following her through the door.
A ray of sunlight crept into the bedroom. Dunn blinked a few times as he came to life, rubbing his eyes, and stretching under the thin blanket that covered him. He rolled from his side onto his back, looking over to the left. Brooke lay there, a relaxed smile on her lips, eyes closed, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, still sleeping. The faint sound of birds chirping could be heard through the open windows.
Dunn lifted the blanket slightly. He was nude, she was nude. Brooke was fit and toned, slender and beautiful. The night before had been amazing, and Dunn replayed some of the highlights in his mind. Brooke was the kind of woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go for it. Dunn liked that. He liked her.
Laying there, head propped up by the pillow, Dunn thought about his new life in Traverse City. He felt almost like a stranger here, but things were happening for him. He was getting acclimated. With Brooke by his side, Dunn felt pretty sure he should take the advice of the threatening man in the shooting range parking lot. He should back off of all that. There were a lot better things to focus on.
As he mulled over these thoughts, his phone vibrated on the nightstand. He looked to it, picked it up, and checked the notification. It was a text from Missy.
“I was thinking…” the text began. “Everything surrounding the security camera stuff at the marina seems fishy. Whenever I had int
eractions with the IT company, they did a good job. And during the time between the murder and when I left, I never saw any of the usual IT guys around.”
Dunn read the text again. He wasn’t sure how to respond, or if he even should this early. But it did pique his interest. Looking to Brooke next to him in bed, and then back to his phone, he wrestled with what to do.
After another moment or two, he started typing.
“Interesting,” he wrote. “So you’re thinking that maybe it was all just a lie that the cameras were broken?”
“There’s no way the people in charge over there would let those outdoor cameras stay broken,” Missy wrote back. “There are some very expensive yachts in that marina. I think it’s really really weird that they didn’t catch any footage of the shooting.”
Dunn let it sink in. That part of the puzzle never did make sense to him. Having worked in IT himself, and knowing security well, he was sure that if the cameras had gone down, even for a moment, someone would get an email notification. Most security systems had monitoring in place to prevent these kind of problems. He thought about it some more, and then he started typing again.
“Hey,” said the groggy, sultry voice next to him. “What are you doing?” Brooke stirred under the covers, turning toward Dunn and smiling. She looked beautiful in the morning.
“Nothing,” said Dunn. “Just texting with a friend.”
“You can do that later,” said Brooke, playfully pushing his hand away from the phone. “You’ve got me now.”
Dunn smiled. He put his phone back on the nightstand.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll do it later.”
“Good,” Brooke said in a simple, satisfied tone. She rolled closer to him and kissed his shoulder. “Last night was wonderful.”
“You were just drunk on wine,” Dunn teased. She laughed.
“Maybe,” said Brooke. “But so were you.”
“It’s fine with me,” continued Dunn. “Wine really greases the gears, so to speak.”
“I don’t need wine to grease the gears,” said Brooke. With this line, her hand slithered under the covers and Brooke touched him. Dunn lifted an eye brow and looked to her.
